1 The Heroes of Kaladim
by Roztov
Summary: Introducing an old Everquest guild.


A dizzily rain started to fall across the fields. The man at the window shuddered and pulled his  
cloak tighter across his shoulders.  
"This is worse than the Karana's" he mumbled to himself.  
"Stop complaining Roztov! Dis wuld be summr weather in Halas!' came an accented voice from further  
in the room.  
The rain soaked fields that could be seen through the gloomy weather still had people working in them.  
Roztov thanked providence for small mercies, at least he was dry.  
His vantage point was quite high, a window in a squat dwarven tower deep in the heart of the Butcherblock Mountains  
giving a birds eye few of the surrounding farmlands.  
'I never realised Butcherblock could be so flat.'  
A chuckle came from the darker recesses of the room, this time another voice spoke,  
'Parts of my lands are, I am a lowlander myself.'  
Roztov looked further out, the line of mountains in the distance were nothing but a feint purple smear  
hidden by the rain.  
'Aye, you are never far from the mountains but it still feels strange.'  
'You have come back from fighting undead frogs, giant mushrooms and huge rampaging golems and you think that  
a dwarf living on flat land is strange?'  
Roztov laughed, 'You got me there, Brond!'  
The shorter figure of a stocky dwarf raised itself up from a chair at the back of the room, and smoothing  
down his long white beard joined the taller man at the window. There was still another figure back there,  
but had so far only commented on the weather and seemingly happy with that remained where it was.

If one of the toiling figures had happened to glance up they would have seen the two friends gazing out  
across the fields. One tall, marking him out as a foreigner, but bearded so not completely untrustworthy, his  
long hair tied back and falling across the back of the travelling cloak that he wore. The dwarf had a martial  
air about him and certain way of standing that would have marked him out as a soldier to any of the farmers  
around here, and maybe a particularly intelligent peasant may have judged him to be a paladin. A dwarf  
sworn to the protection of the people and the doctrines of the mother church.

'No serfs or thrall here, these are all free men,' declared Brond after they had stood for a while.  
'There ar no slaves in my lnds ither!' came the indignant reply from the third person in the room.  
'Please don't start that again!' cried Roztov rubbing his temples, then gazing out into the murk said,  
'Look, this must be one of ours now!'

The two at the window laughed in genuine mirth.  
'What does she look like?' said Roztov slapping his shorter friend on the back.  
'That pony is no more than the size of a mist wolf!' agreed Brond.  
This was enough to galvanise the last man in the room out of his chair and to his friends by the window.  
He lurched his massive frame to beside his companions and bellowed  
'XOMMMYY!' making all the nearby field workers look up.  
'For Tunares sake, my ears!' complained Roztov as both he and Brond waggled fingers in their ears in  
discomfort at the big barbarians shout.  
'Do that again, Jalamu, and I will cut you down to size!', said the dwarf.  
But even from this distance, the figure on horse back had heard the call and waved up to them as she jounced  
around on her speedy little pony. Her short halfling legs were barely long enough to reach the stirrups of  
her saddle. All of three feet tall and plump in the way that her people were, she did not make an ideal  
horse woman. At any moment she looked like she might be flung to the road side, even the act at waving  
towards the tower had seriously unbalanced her.

'Ten plat says she falls off before she reaches the river' said Roztov uncharitably.  
'Hah!', laughed Brond, 'She'll make it. But she won't be able to cross the river tonight, its swollen so  
much the ferryman will never risk it.'  
As the horsewoman reached the ferry she drew her mount to a halt and half dismounted, half fell from her  
steed, which caused more argument between Roztov and Jalamu.  
'She fell!'  
'She did nto! And she is reaching the rivre!'  
As they talked they watched as Xomano had a conversation with the ferryman. Brond hushed them but even  
with the men silenced the halfling and the dwarven ferry keeper were too far away to overhear.  
Finally the halfling threw up here arms in despair, sat down and seemed to draw something from her bag.  
'She decids to eat a pei, vry wise, what I wold do.', whispered Jalamu to his friends.  
'No, Jal, she is consulting her spell book.', returned Roztov.  
And sure enough, Xomano appeared to cast a spell, the glimmer of magical aura twinkling in the murky  
rain for a few seconds. Promptly she mounted her steed again and with no more care than if she was on the  
kings highway urged her horse to trot over the river. The ferry keeper watched in amazement as she  
rode across the water as if it were an open plain!  
'Hah! That foxed old Jerris!' laughed Brond as the ferryman scratched his dumbfounded head and looked on.  
'She will be here in an hour or so now.' remarked Roztov as they sat down again by the fire.

Suddenly there was a commotion from below them. Sounds that put them in mind of a very big bag of cats being  
roasted alive while a hundred lizards were beaten with sticks.  
'What in the name of!' cried Jalamu as a trap door right beside his feet burst open and a green streak raced  
past him and hid behind a chair.  
The green streak poked its blunt head around one of the overstuffed armchairs. A large river crocodile from the  
boondocks of Innuthule Swamp eyed them with primeval distain.  
'Chomper!' rumbled a deep voice from bellow.

As the fellows in the room looked down a huge tiger muscled up the ladder below and squeezed itself into the  
room. Without a care in the world it strolled over to the armchair and flopped down beside it.  
The crocodile hissed, a sound like the boiling of the kettle of Cazic-Thule himself and  
slinked off into the shadows.  
'The circus is back in town' remarked Roztov dryly.  
'Yes. Although the cat doesn't always win, Chomper had it up a tree yesterday.' agreed Brond.

The big barbarian playfully tugged on the tigers ears and stroked back its fur, something that it seemed  
to tolerate.  
'What do you feed dis thng Suran, I swear it gets biggr evry day!', Jalamu called down in his strong accent.  
'You don't want to know!' came a voice from below.  
It had never been established where Jalamus accent was from precisely, but whatever language his parents  
had spoken didn't seem to go in for grammar all that much. Or vowels, when it came to it.

After the animals had been shooed away to their respective owners the three friends had some food sent up  
from the kitchen below. Xomano had made it to the tower at last and was busy at work getting everyone fed.  
As Roztov finished off his last mouthful he looked up to see two men clattering up the ladder into the  
towers top room.  
'Greetings all!', cried the first as he ascended, a huge bearded man, that even made Jalamu look small.  
'Hello Beolvaar!' exclaimed Brond as they shook hands.  
The barbarian stepped aside to the window to let the next man enter, the room starting to get crowded now.  
The smaller man that entered smiled at those inside and removed his cape to shake the rain from it.  
He had shoulder length black hair and wore the robes of someone who dabbled in the magical arts bellow  
his travelling clothes.  
'How on earth did you cross the river?' asked Brond as he rose from his chair to greet the new arrivals.  
'We didn't, we got the coach from Kaladim. We just came up though the village now.'  
'But the coach doesn't come anywhere near here!', replied the dwarf in genuine confusion.  
'I persuaded the driver to make a small detour', came the dead pan reply.  
'Turned on the charm did you?' Roztov asked innocently.  
The two barbarians laughed together as they got the joke, together sharing the last of the pie Jalamu had been  
eating, their mouths full of crust.  
As the mirth died down, Brond asked,  
'Hmm, who are we missing now then?'  
Roztov looked up at the ceiling as if counting off a mental check list.  
'Ellerina isn't here, but she will be late as always. Tuppence will be along later, I left him, fishing rod  
in hand beside the weir in the village this morning. And Kindariel, well, if you don't know where your wife  
is then I can't help you!'

Later that evening, they all gathered in the upper chambers of the tower, the animals had been put to bed  
and the horses had been fed and watered. No agenda had been set, as yet, and they told stories and  
reminisced about times passed, while drinking stout dwarven ale and smoking from long clay pipes.  
Tuppence had arrived, soaked to the skin after falling in the weir. He claimed to have caught a huge  
cichlid that had broken his line. The others all agreed that it was much more likely he had nodded off  
and fallen in the river.  
Kindariel had arrived, having walked all the way from the old druid ring, saying that she had enjoyed the  
leisurely pace despite the weather.  
As the clock slowly turned to midnight, Brond sent a boy into town to look for anyone that looked out of  
place. He came back with a tall elven woman dressed in black holding his hand in no small confusion.  
'She was in the Old Goat Inn, I think she was lost!', cried the young dwarven boy as he handed over his  
charge.  
The women in the room all jumped up to greet Ellerina as she entered and to take her wet cloak from her.  
The men folk smiled into their beer steins at each other knowingly.

Once everyone had settle back donw into there seats, Mr and Mr Battleshield together on a sagging sofa.  
Xomano and Assynt in a dark corner, Ellerina getting warm at the fire, and Suran with his tiger asleep with  
his head in his masters lap, Roztov got up and brought out a large scroll of papers.

'Here is something that has been in my head for a bit chaps. As you know, I'm not getting any younger...'  
General disagreements and sympathetic noises came from the group, and a single soggy hiccup from Tuppence  
who was already quite drunk from the brandy Xomano had ladled into him after his dip.  
(Chomper had been severely question by his master, Spiney, about his whereabouts when Tuppence was dunked.  
He denied everything in angry silence, as he always did. But then, Chomper would deny raiding the pantry,  
in stark defiance of all evidence to the contrary, such as cream all around his jaws and crocodile  
claw marks in the butter.)  
'No its true,' continued Roztov, 'We humans age quickly, and I am no longer the same man who sought  
adventure in the ruins of Kunark or hunted the wilds of Velious. I know I don't look it but I reach the age of 65,  
by the old calendar anyway, in a few weeks.'  
Roztov cleared his throat and took another swig of ale, 'And our company has grown more mature as well,  
we are at the gates of the gods now. Anyway, I won't beat about the bush, at my age I can feel a certain  
lust for glory coming to me. I'm not talking about the desire for greater glory that has come over so  
many of our old friends, who left our circle in search of adventure within the ranks of more powerful  
factions and god-botherers. No.'  
Roztov paused and scratched his beard. 'I want to see how far we can get together, and these documents  
are the start of my plans to attempt to further the glory of our band of heroes, as well as doing the  
good work of Mother Tunare. It be hoofs me, as it does us all sometimes in our life, to do the work of our  
masters and mistresses and I can think of no better way than bringing honour to our name, as the values we  
hold are so close to the values of my Goddess. Anyway ..'  
And Roztov ahemed in his throat a little at this point, obviously anxious.  
'I know I am know great leader, we all look to Brond for that, but I have been thinking my thoughts and  
here they are.'

Roztov laid out his scrolls on the table as the others grouped round, glasses and flagons in hand to look  
at his plans.


End file.
